"Did you know Dolphins have massive testicles?"

Evi's eyes went wide as she looked up from Jim's crotch and spat his flaccid penis from her mouth.

"Jim, are you even trying right now?" She asked, irritated, but in a still throaty, lowered voice, trying to keep herself in the game by sliding a finger up and down her vulva.

"What? Is the fact that a dolphin needs to reserve over six percent of his body fat to protect his testes not a sexy enough fact for you."

Evi rolled her eyes and crawled up to lay beside her husband who dutifully wrapped his arm around her.

Evi laid on her side, her hand tracing circles around Jim's protruding belly. She looked straight into Jim's eyes with a stare of perfect loving disappointment. She smiled sweetly, her eyes tinged with sadness and asked, "pray tell, why a dolphin might have such large, unwieldy balls?"

"Well, if you're a water mammal, and you procreate in the ocean, where there's plenty of possibility for seepage, you need to produce a huge amount of material in order for at least some of it to reach its final destination." Jim winked.

"Ah," Evi grinned, her hand moving back to Jim's shaft. "And are you planning on producing a huge amount of material for me as well?"

"I guess there's really only one way to find out." Jim kissed his wife as he felt her grip wrap around him tightly.

But, it was to no avail.

"Jesus, Jim. What the fuck is going on?"

She spat on her hand and began rubbing Jim with an animal velocity.

"Does this honestly not feel good to you?"

Jim suddenly went limp. Evi dropped him and left her spot on the bed, hovering over her husband on all fours but not at in a sexy way. Jim pushed himself into a semi-sitting position against the pillows.

"I really am trying my hardest, dear, it's just...."

Evi didn't wait for Jim to get back his train of thought. "It's just like trying to thread a wet spaghetti noodle through a fucking plastic bead."

"Okay, now that's being a little-."

"Which would be fine if we were making some freaking friendship bracelets, except I don't want to be your bff; I want to fucking fuck you." Evi leaned forward, her eyes only a few centimetres from Jim's face, causing him genuine fear for more than a few fleeting seconds. "And I can't fuck you if you're not hard, Jim."

Jim pushed himself against the bed-frame in retreat. "I'm really not sure why you think this strategy is going to yield better results, dear...."

"Well, what would you prefer me to do instead, hun? I'm really starting to run out of ideas, here." The irritation was quite palpable in her voice.

"No, no," Jim sighed. "It's not you, babe." He covered his head with his hands for a moment, massaging his temples. "I, I really don't know what's going on."

Evi's face softened. She dropped back down, lying on top of Jim's naked body as she looked back up at him, her eyes pleading. "No, please, Jim. Just tell me. I want to make you happy. What can I do for you?"

Jim was silent. He hated when his wife got like this.

Evi thought for a moment, then she looked up again, her angular chin poking rather uncomfortably into Jim's torso. "What about those porn-girls," she asked, her fingers dancing downwards again to her husband's groin. "What do they do?"

Jim's whole body went stiff. He sat up higher, letting Evi slip off of him.

"What is your obsession with porn all of the sudden, Evi?"

"What's your fucking obsession, Jim?" Evi replied, throwing the question back at him like she had knocked a screwball straight out of the park.

Jim's face cringed. "Honey, I grew up with a stable internet connection and little sex education. I started watching porn before I learned long division." He shuddered, crusty memories flooding back to him, unsolicited. "And I watched, sometimes for curiosity and sometimes for pleasure, but never, ever, for anything more than that. I just don't know what the big deal is with me whacking off every now and then when you're not home and I'm feeling a little horny."

"The problem is-."

"Is that okay, honey?" Jim asked, interrupting.

"The problem is-." Evi replied, her voice getting higher.

"Do I have your permission?"

"THE PROBLEM IS," Evi shouted, breaking Jim's sudden burst of confidence. Evi waited a moment, watching to see if Jim had abandoned his resistance before continuing in a calmer tone. "The problem is when you're in bed, here, with me and you can't get hard, but have no trouble," she spurted her hands out in random directions like some erratic court jester, the heat of the moment causing her to forget the right word, "erecting yourself to some random bitch on the internet."

Jim groaned in frustration. "That's not what it's like at all. I have to search for a long, long time before I can find something to get me off. I have exactly the same problems with you as I have everywhere else."

Evi sat on haunches. "So, do you just not find me attractive anymore?" She framed it dispassionately, as if it were an intellectual question, but Jim could tell she was on the verge of tears.

"No. I can't continue this conversation," Jim said, exhausted, slumping down on his back and turning his head away. "You're just hearing what you want to hear."

"Do you think I'm hot, Jim?" She sounded like some kind of angsty youth, displaying her not-quite-fully-developed virginal body in front of her first high-school boyfriend, gently demanding validation.

"I'm not going to fucking answer that." Jim shook his head.

"Do you think I'm hot, Jim?"

Jim shook with rage and indignation. "Yes, Evi," he said, though his tone bite with all the sting of a cat-o'-nine-tails. "You're the most beautiful woman in all the world."

Evi pressed two fingers up to her forehead and rested her nose against the palm of her hand.

"That's not what I asked you." A tear trickled down her cheek, ran over her glossy skin down her arm and dripped off into the bed-sheets.

Jim crawled over to his wife, wrapped her in his arms and started kissing her cheeks, though she felt like little more than a limp wax statue.

"Honey. Evi. Baby. Darling. Evangeline. You know I love you, right? You know I always will. That I need you more than I've ever needed anyone in my whole, entire life."

"I know you need me," Evi said, stifling her sobs. "But I want you to want me too."

"Of course I want you," Jim parroted. "I want you like I've never wanted anything else."

Evi smiled a bit, her lips pulling in and out a few times like a fly-fisherman casting his wire back and forth across the lake on a chilly, midsummer morning. She began to return Jim's gesture and tenderly wrapped her fingers around his body.

They kissed for a time and then slowly fell back to their original positions, one hand playing with the other's hair as the other paced around their partner's leg.

"Would it be okay if I played with you instead?" Jim asked with just a tinge of self-inflicted embarrassment.

Evi sighed, a long, deep and heavy sigh, wiped a final tear from her eye and then nodded, biting her lower lip.

Jim laid Evi flat on her back, and, crawling over her propped on his hands and knees, he went to the bedside table, opened the first drawer and removed a small rabbit vibrator and thin bottle of flavoured lubricant. He was in the mood for a bit of a snack.

Jim kissed Evi, his mouth spread wide and their tongues mingling with one another to the point of near asphyxiation. Then, one more kiss, with Evi customarily biting Jim's lip, before he began kissing down her neck, then licking with long, sensual tongue strokes to her nipples. He wetted his fingers with saliva and then spread it over Evi's inviting areola. After a few circles with his index fingers and a preliminary squeeze, she was ready for the vibrator.

The rabbit was made primarily for clitoral stimulation, but its two "ears" were just far enough apart that Evi's surprisingly fat nipples stuck between them perfectly. She curdled in pleasure as Jim slowly moved the machine around her, wandering in delicate little circles until her teat was tall and erect. Jim pinched it, kissing Evi's neck and sucking on her skin as she moaned in absolute bliss.

Jim kept the vibrator rested on the left breast as he moved to the right. He was about to wet his fingers again when Evi grabbed his hand and said, "wait!"

Jim went completely rigid. Had he overstepped in some unseen, unknown way?

His fears were assuaged all too soon. "Let me do it," Evi asked, plunging Jim's hand into her mouth.

Once the initial wave of alarm had passed, Jim began to wonder how Evi had become so adept at sucking his fingers. She had almost a professional knack for it, her eyes shut tightly with pleasure as she moved her mouth back and forth, up and down and side to side like some kind of corrupted 3D printer, unsure of its design and constantly readjusting the flow of plastic.

Was this how she sucked on Gregor? Though instead of his fingers, it was likely his cock, wasn't it? He probably had no problem getting hard. Well, certainly not with a woman like Evangeline. She was as tight Jane Fonda's cosmetic surgeries, in every sense of the word. It was all Jim could do to stop himself from whispering, "oh, what a dirty little girl you are" before his mind went too far.

"Huh?" Evi stopped sucking, but Jim's two fingers were still firmly lodged in her mouth, muffling her.

Oh, shit. He had said it out loud. Now it was time to back-peddle. "Oh. Sorry, dear. Was that too much?"

Evi put Jim's hand aside and violently shook her head. "No, please. I like it." Her toes curled and she bit her nail. "Tell me how dirty of a girl I am."

Well, that was the central mystery, wasn't it? Just how dirty was she? Certainly dirty enough to text random men while her husband was in bed next to her. Dirty enough to post pictures of her half-naked body to a crowd of lascivious eyes. Dirty enough to flash her bottom to gym-goers and display her midriff to passersby. Did that mean she was also dirty enough to sleep with another man on the side?

"You're just a filthy little thing, is what you are," Jim said as he ran his wetted fingers down Evi's lithe, nubile body towards her crotch, which by now was radiating heat against his upraised thigh.

"Yeah, call me a whore!" Evi blurted out, her cheeks going quite red as she realized what she had said.

Was this some kind of confession? Were these the secret fantasies only Gregor was allowed to hear and fulfil?

Did he call her nasty names, tie her to his bed-posts and slash her back with leather whips and wetted towels while she begged for more? Did he gag her, choke her throat and smash her ass with a wooden paddle, forcing her to gallivant on all fours across her bedroom like a well-bridled horse? Did he run ropes across her body and tie her arms and legs to the ceiling like a sex-doll-chandelier, just so he could stuff her with his throbbing cock, fucking her senseless, but always pulling away just before she was about to climax, leaving her grovelling, pleading desperately for just one thrust, sir. Just one, please, I'll do anything. Just please let me cum!

Jim's teasing was getting the best of Evi, she started shouting. "I said, call me a-."

Jim grabbed Evi's throat like the neck of a chicken he was about strangle and forced her head back against the bed-frame. "I'll call you whatever I want to, slut," he said, his voice husky and angered, as he plunged a finger deep inside her vagina, skipping several steps of foreplay altogether. It was perfect timing; Evi was positively drenched.

Jim sent another finger after the first and started crunching his hand, his thumb wildly running over Evi's clitoris. Evi squealed. Her head arched back against Jim's other hand, still clutching her throat.

Jim imagined Gregor doing much the same. He would wrap Evi in a sheet of plastic, so tightly that she couldn't move, her thighs bound together and her arms pressed to her sides. He'd cut holes around her breasts, pricking up her sensitive nipples with his fingers just to stretch them up with clamps that descended from the ceiling. She'd whine, but Gregor would stuff his erection down her mewling mouth and whip her tits with a flogger for complaining. He'd place a small, almost imperceptible little vibrator above her clit, separated from her skin by layer after layer of warm, sweaty plastic, its tingling sensation noticeable but lost within its folds, like the prick of a dentist's needle one feels when the gum has been fully frozen. Only, it would be on her pussy for hours at a time: just enough to keep her aroused, but never enough to make her go over the edge.

Jim felt Evi tightening up around him. Her body was starting to contort and spasm. He was just about to let her enjoy herself when he pulled his hands away, a sinister look in his eyes.

"No, what are you doing?!" Evi demanded, gasping for breath.

"I want you to beg for it, whore."

Evi smiled in twisted delight. "Oh, please, please, please."

But of course, Gregor wouldn't give in so quickly. A tease had to be sustained, one's misery and pleasure intertwined and prolonged as much as possible.

"Please, what? You need to use your words."

Evi tried to reach her hand down to her crotch, but Jim slapped it away. She began to wail. "Please, make me cum! Baisse-tu! Let me cum! Encule!"

Jim clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth disapprovingly. "No, I'm afraid that's no good at all. Only good girls get to c-."

"No, please! I have been a good girl. A very, very good girl. Please!"

Jim smiled, teetering on the edge of mania. "First you use such filthy words, and then you interrupt me. Why it really looks like someone isn't working very hard at all."

"No, please! I promise. I'll be good. I'll do anything."

"Mmmm," Jim replied, sticking one set of fingers between Evi's thin, pleading lips. "Your mouth says you're being good, but," he moved his other hand to Evi's lower half and lightly circled around her labia, just feeling the heat burst around him like a baked potato fresh out of the oven, "your pussy says you've been very, very bad."

He removed his hands and crawled up on top of his wife. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I think you might be in need of some punishment."

"Mon Dieu! Please, no!"

Jim was confused. He leaned down and whispered in his wife's ear. "Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?"

Evi violently shook her head, no. "No, keep going. This is awesome!"

"Should we ... create a safe word or something...?"

"Jim, Jim, you're wrecking it. Let's just say green for go and red for stop. Now please, I want you to hit me."

"Hit you?" Where was this coming from? Is this really what she and Gregor would do? After their workouts, their bodies all sweaty and their breath fast, their eyes still filled with the images of all those beautiful men and women pumping their rigid muscles and bountiful asses?

"Yes! I want you to pull me over and slap my ass until I can't even fucking sit on it tomorrow!" Jim hadn't seen Evi this enthusiastic about something since he had first learned how to make homemade sushi in university.

"Oh, my god," Evi had said, her face contracting into a giant triangle as she tried to contain her absolute amazement. "I think I just orgazzma'd a bit."

"Orgazzma?" Jim had replied, grinning in delight both at having pleasured his friend and caught her in a delectable error.

"Fuck off. I can't say it in English. Your i-s-m's and a-s-m's make no fucking sense."

"How would you say it in French?"

"I don't know, like 'jouir'."

"Hmm, okay. And how would you conjugate that?"

"How would I know? Do I look like a fucking Bescherelle?"

Jim had wandered across his dorm-room kitchen, took the platter of California rolls from Evi's outstretched arms and wrapped her trembling body in his thick, warm arms.

"Je seulement veux savoir comment le dire quand je te fais jouir ce soir." He kissed her, but Evi had recoiled.

Evi replied in English, the universal symbol that he had fucked something up. "Jim, I'm not sure if we should keep doing this..." Her eyes were sad and longing, like a lion, trapped in his cage, remembering when he had been free to roam the plains and devour what he wished.

"It's play, Evangeline," Jim had kept his voice low, calm, trying not to let out all the tension that was building from his ears to his toenails. "No one will ever have to know. It will just be our little secret."

"Really?" Evi had asked, looking so innocent and beautiful, so ready and so willing to trust this man with anything

"Really," Jim had replied, and he kissed her, tasting the scraps of sushi still on her lips. He really had done a good job.

"Jim, please! I want you to spank me!"

Jim rolled his wife over on her stomach then forced her up on her knees, pressing her hands against the headboard. Did she beg Gregor in the same way?

Would they wander out into the park, find a place that was nice and secluded where Gregor would press Evi against a tree, rip off her clothes, not caring if a button popped off her blouse or a tear formed in her pants? Would he cut a giant hole in between her legs on purpose and begin rubbing her, hoping her moans would invite a few curious hikers, wondering as to the nature of her high-pitched cries?

Jim held his hand a few inches above Evi's buttocks before coming down on it like an equestrian trying to coax his horse from a trot to a gallop.

"Harder!" Evi demanded, more in irritation than arousal.

She'd scream the same in that forest too as Gregor shed her clothes, leaving her completely naked and exposed to the elements. He'd have her clasp her arms together against the strongest arm of a tree, and handcuff her to the top of the limb in such a way that even when she stretched, her feet would still hover a few centimetres off the ground, and she'd be forced to stand on her tippy-toes, constantly readjusting and never able to fully relax. She'd be a corpse hanging from a gibbet, dangling for any number of onlookers across the valley to gaze at, admiring her beauty and helplessness in whatever sinful and impious way met their fancy.

Jim held his hand up a few feet in the air this time and let it come flying down like a stealth plane on a bombing run. Like a peaceful pond that had been violated by giant boulder, rolling down from the mountain high above, at first, the surface tension remained, and all that was heard was a mighty smack, the crack of a thunderbolt on a poor, gnarled hollow. Then, wave after wave spread out from the impact, and even some time after the initial event, ripples poured out in every direction.

Evi crumpled onto the bed, her back arched and her hands still latched to the frame as if she were holding on for dear life. "Harder," she said, but her voice had grown soft and hoarse, almost to the point of inaudibility.

Gregor never waited for any such instruction. He would walk to a slim, bustling birch sapling, break off a long, skinny, still-green branch and run its tip up and down Evi's body. He'd trace out every line on her tattoo, making sure to sharpen his stick so that it left behind a thin, white scratch everywhere it crept. With every passing second, her skin would grow more and more sensitive. She'd begin heaving each time it made contact, holding her breath and biting her tongue to relieve the pain. And just as she was not able to take anymore, Gregor would move the stick lower, marking the outlines of her dripping pussy, as he tickled it mercilessly with the scratchy, fibrous luster of the birch.

Jim smacked again, even harder this time. Her cheek had turned red and inflamed, his handprint visible like a signature on the cover of favourite book.

No matter how much Evi begged and pleaded, no matter how much she cried and screamed, Gregor would not move his stick until the tip was soaked and smelt unmistakably of his slave's hole. When this was satisfied, he would draw the branch back and whip Evi across her round, supple ass, leaving a giant red streak in his path. He'd whip and whip and whip, the air whooshing around the branch as it neared the sound barrier, and Evi's wails would echo throughout the hills for miles on end. Which every scream came another red line, and Gregor wouldn't stop until he had painted her entire backside from heels to shoulder-blades.

Evi couldn't keep herself upright any longer. Her legs were trembling too wildly, and she buried her face in the pillows as Jim kept flashing down like the very Hand of God delivering His divine judgement to the wicked.

Gregor would walk around the tree, very slowly, each step deliberate and awe-inducing: a giant marching out to crush the scurrying mice beneath his feet. He'd see Evi, her small, delicate breasts drenched in tears, giant blobs of black mascara running down her face, her mouth choked and slobbery, barely able to breathe, but still wanting more. Desperately wanting more. He'd trudge up to her, watching as she flinched with every footstep, and rest his left hand on her throat, squeezing it tight. He'd plant a single kiss on her lips then, achingly slow, move his mouth away, smiling as he slid a single finger down her abdomen and stopped just above her clit. He would rub just hard enough to expose it to the gentle breeze and mid-summer sun, letting a chill engulf Evi's entire being, a shiver that raised every hair up from her toes, her thighs, her arms, shoulders, neck and stomach. Then, he would carefully trod back, leaving Evi dripping, calling out for more with all the strength she could muster from her weakened, broken body.

Jim slapped and slapped and slapped. Evi's ass had been beaten raw. She was sobbing profusely into her pillows, the neighbours no doubt scrambling around in panic and horror, unsure whether they were engaged incredible passion or a violent squabble. Jim stopped. He was unsure how much more she could take.

"Green," Evi muttered, barely conscious and suffocating from the ocean of pleasure that was near the point of drowning her.

Jim wavered. Red cracks were forming around Evi's buttocks. He was within a few strikes of drawing blood.

Gregor couldn't care less. He spun the branch over his head and whipped Evi straight on her breast. She cried out, forcing her head down and moving her body about as she tried shifting on her tiptoes. Gregor made her stand still and count out the strokes as beat her nipple. After the count of fifteen, he let Evi take a breath as he dug into an iron-braced chest and pulled out a proper, leather-tailed long whip.

"Please, no more. I beg you!" Evi pleaded, but her words were muffled by her sobs and tears welling in her throat.

Gregor took the whip and lightly ran it down Evi's front, just flicking his wrist enough to give the string some tension. Evi's eyes widened in horror as he brought the whip to the tip of her crotch, and he responded by cracking it against her groin. Evi screamed in agonizing pain, her whole body crunching up as her feet left the air.

"Stand!" Gregor shouted.

Evi obeyed him, her eyes filled with absolute and all-encompassing fear.

He ran the whip around her clitoris, starting softly at first, just giving pulses like he was a third-grade science teacher, explaining sound waves by beating a rope up and down on the classroom floor. Evi was glistening: her upper body drenched in sweat and tears, her inner thighs splattered with gallons worth of her own juices.

"Please..." she begged, so softly and so pathetically it was a miracle she could be heard at all.

With that, Gregor spun the whip and slashed it directly across the length of her vulva. Evi was wracked by an explosion of ecstasy and agony, and her mouth opened in a scream, but nothing came out. Her lungs too were clenched. She began hyper-ventilating as Gregor cracked the whip again and again, hitting against her clitoris, bringing her closer and closer to edge of delirium.

"Green!" Evi shouted, her buttocks still standing in the air as she fingered herself from behind.

Jim raised his hand and closed his eyes, already imagining the sting that was coming.

Gregor scored another direction hit. Evi rocked up and down like a dead frog being electrocuted as she orgasmed, her feet unable to touch the ground amid her quivering. Gregor ignored this and continued thrashing her pussy, now more sensitive than ever. Evi screamed out in shock. It was too much.

A single drop of blood sprouted from Evi's reddened, mauled buttocks.

Jim gagged.

He dropped to the floor and crawled with all the haste of a madman to the bathroom. He held his head to the toilet and heaved, a disgusting, tortuous shudder sending little pinpricks to every region of his body. He coughed and heaved, but nothing came out, every muscle in his body spasming and cramping uncontrollably.

What the hell had he just done? That was his wife, the only woman he had ever loved, his partner, his lover, his angel. What had he done to her?

Had he hurt her? Had he damaged her? Was she lying in fear of him, sobbing inconsolably, wondering where it had all gone wrong? Was this why she was cheating? She had seen the monster in him all along.

She had seen his true self before he did.

Evi called out for her husband, but when he couldn't respond, she quickly rushed over the bathroom, finding him hunched over the toilet bowl, his body trembling near the point of seizure. Jim could see her wrap herself around him, kissing his face, tears streaming down onto his chest, but it felt as if she were touching someone else, another person entirely in whose body Jim was merely trapped for the moment.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jim heard, though it came out muffled and distorted, like his wife was speaking through a vinyl tube. "I shouldn't have you pushed you so hard. You're so sweet. I knew it might be too much for you, but I kept pushing. I was selfish. I'm so sorry. I won't let it happen again. You were just..."

Jim sat, his body stiff and cold, the colour slowly draining from his face. He couldn't hear a word Evi was saying or feel a single kiss on his cheek. The whole universe was dark and empty, and he was just floating in it: listless and alone.

Jim scanned the hallway. It seemed safe enough: nothing shifting, nothing falling. There was no movement of any kind except for the gentle rustling of some wind from a half-opened window.

"Evi?" he called out.

No answer.

Jim laid back in his desk chair, completely relaxed, a grin taking shape on his face.

Finally, he was alone.

Jim popped open his laptop and began scanning Reddit. He could barely remember how he used to search up pornography before it had existed. Maybe he just clicked whatever was the most popular link of the day. So disgusting! It was like hearing how old people used to think that children dying of typhus before the age of five was ordinary and unconcerning.

Jim flipped over to his NSFW account and began to browse. He was subscribed to a community of every fetish, camera angle, studio and actor that gave him even the slightest titillation whatsoever. The question was never if he would get aroused, but simply what he would get aroused to.

It seemed strange now, to think back, that he used to spend all day waiting for his parents to leave the house, rushing to the basement to flip open the first film he could find, not doing any research ahead of time about the clip's quality. How much masturbatory energy had he wasted over inferior products? In a world of bottomless possibilities, it seemed so silly and pointless to consume anything but the best. It would be like forcing down a bag of unflavoured potato chips when a bowl of caviar was just outside one's field of view.

Thankfully, those days were behind him. Now, for every interest he had there were thousands of men (and often a handful of very enthusiastic women) who had already scrounged the depths of the interwebs in search of the very best content, and thousands more willing to offer their lengthy and weirdly academic commentary on every single clip. It was a neurotic masturbator's heaven. Such was the strange and wonderful place the internet had become: a place of infinite judgement on the individual, but complete acceptance of the community.

After finding a fellatio video that seemed to have good enough reviews, Jim dropped his pants and placed a towel underneath his bottom. It would be effective enough to keep the sweat of his bare undersides from staining the chair, thus making it too obvious to Evi what he was doing in his down-time. It also helped with clean-up afterwards. Even in the heat of things Jim kept enough wits about him to plan ahead.

The gentleman in this particular video was rather short and large-bellied (a personal preference: it reduced any chance of insecurities developing) but was undoubtedly magnificently endowed. It appeared almost as if the member had been the donation of a particularly generous horse, but the doctors had been too lazy to sew it on properly, keeping it forever much paler than the rest of his body. Jim assumed the colour differential was due to the man's day-time occupation. After all, it certainly didn't see the light of day all that much, the poor thing.

The woman was large and meaty, a fair amount of flubber and fat insulating her thick thighs, drooping breast and mountainous buttocks. She was in almost every way the opposite of his wife, and Jim very much preferred like that. She held her wide cheeks in over-acted awe at the size of her partner's erection, before winking to the camera, falling to her knees and shoving almost an entire foot's worth of penis into her mouth as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Yowzers," Jim said aloud, more intellectually amazed then sexually stimulated.

As the man began moaning loudly enough to nearly unsettle the audience and the woman opened her leg to the camera so they could see her playing with herself, Jim decided to join in the fun. There was just something so remarkably erotic about seeing a woman swallow an anatomically impossible cock. Jim found it almost irresistible. As the camera closed in on the throbbing member's bulging veins and glowing red, circumcised head, he could feel himself nearing the edge of orgasm.

The man was but a few touches away from finishing when the women turned her head, looked directly into the camera, into Jim's eyes, and began walking forward.

"Why hello there," she said to Jim, looking down at his engorged penis.

"Wait, can you see me?" Jim asked, frantically trying to cover up the laptop's webcam with a stray sticky note on his desk.

"Of course, silly," the woman replied, as her upper body suddenly popped out of the screen and fell onto Jim's lap.

"Oh my," she said, looking up at him while she ran her warm, soft hands up and down his scrunched, huddled legs, "that was somewhat more uncomfortable than I'm used to."

She looked down and offered Jim a preliminary lick, her lower half still stuck in the computer screen.

"Oh. Sorry, dear," Jim said, trying to keep somewhat professional, but not denying a certain amount of intimacy that had just materialized between them, "I'm married."

The woman waved it off. "So what? Everybody's married these days! Does that mean a guy can't get his dick sucked when a sucking is being offered?"

Jim had to admit she had a point there, a point that only grew more persuasive as she continued licking.

"Alright," he said, reluctantly. "Okay. But just a little bit though." He sounded like a babysitter negotiating dessert portions with an over-indulgent, clinically obese child.

The woman winked at him and stuck out her tongue. Jim leaned back, closing his eyes, but keeping one slightly open just to check up on her. The tongue starting elongating, wrapping around Jim like a boa constrictor, slathering him with hot, slimy saliva and moving him closer and closer to that moment of blissful release. Jim closed his eyes tight in total pleasure.

"Is that good, 'un?" the woman asked, though now in a French accent.

"Yes," Jim replied, somewhat confused, but not enough to investigate and leave the pleasantries of the moment behind. Perhaps it was just an affectation, something to get him off. It was certainly working.

A sharp ridge of teeth scraped up against Jim's shaft. He sat straight up.

"Oh. Did I do something wrong?" the woman said, looking up from her work.

It was Evangeline.

Jim pushed himself all way back in his chair, but Evi's strong hands held him glued to his seat. Her mouth plunged back onto Jim's cock, her eyes staring up at him in what was supposed to be a seductive pose but came off instead as an uncanny, cheap imitation of seduction.

"You're getting soft, dear," Evi said.

"Yeah, I really don't think we should be-."

"Here, let me help you out," Evi interrupted, her voice getting deeper and slightly demonic.

Evi opened her mouth wide, revealing endlessly descending rows of tiny, sharp teeth ringed all the way around to the back of her throat. She attacked, biting off the entire undercarriage of Jim's penis, blood spurting out in all directions, coating her face in a thick, steamy soup of red. Jim shrieked in utter agony, but he couldn't move. A layer of heavy cement lathered his body, pinning him down before her.

"There we go," Evi said, her eyes slowly blackening. She scooped the blood off her face and covered Jim's now entirely flaccid member with it, using the fluid as lubricant to move her hand up and down in an excruciating motion. Jim continued to gush, his blood painting his wife in every shade of red imaginable.

Her hair dripped crimson. Her tongue licked rose from the edges of her lips. Her eyes blinked maroon from beneath her crusted lids.

"Yes!" she screamed, electrified and enraptured in a state of complete euphoria. "Cum for me, James! Cum for me! Cum for me! Cum for me!"

Jim slumped over in his desk chair, his body deflating like a popped balloon.